


garments

by SerpentineJ



Series: barisi aus [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: Sonny's fashion improves astronomically when he starts talking to Barba.AU: Barba's a tailor. Sonny's a photographer at Liv's section of the newspaper with his first solo show coming up, and he needs some alterations.





	garments

Rafael Barba never pricks his fingers.

He sighs and pulls the thread through on a small, silky pocket square, pushing his glasses further up his nose with the knuckle on his busy hand. It's midday, but it's a weekday, which means that business is slow and he has nothing to do but work on the jobs currently on the table. The fabric of the pocket square under his hands is midnight blue and almost shimmers when it folds in the light- a new accent for some three-piece number brought in by some businessman who had heard about his shop from a friend of a friend. He slouches a little in his chair. Carmen is off today, too, so he can't even break the monotony with idle chatter.

Stitch. Stitch. Stitch. Barba's hands work smoothly, without stopping.

The bell above the door tinkles, and he's almost welcome for the distraction.

Almost.

"'Scuse me?" A thick Staten Island accent. Barba glances up. "Uh, is this the tailor shop from that news article?"

"Olivia Benson's?" Barba stops stitching, taking off his glasses and folding his arms over the counter. "Yes, what can I help you with?"

He casts his eyes over the man in front of him, slightly skeptically. He's tall- long limbs that would be hard to find off-the-rack fits for, he automatically catalogs, and pale, hair slicked up and back with so much product it looks like he's just walked out of a car wash, wax and all. The mustache adorning his upper lip is almost too much.

"Uh." The man shifts the garment bag draped over one arm, and scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, Liv told me to come out here. Mr... Barba, right?"

"Rafael Barba." Barba says, guarded. "What do you need?"

The man perks up a little, drops his bag on the counter- Barba only just manages to grab the pocket square and needle out of the way- and starts chattering at a mile a minute. Dropping the garment bag seems to have freed his hands from some shackles, because he starts to gesture animatedly.

"Yeah, I need this suit tailored- My name's Dominick, Dominick Carisi, call me Sonny, I work with Liv. It's kinda a long story, but I take photos for the magazine, but I'm tryna go solo, see, and I've got my first show at a gallery down the street in a couple weeks- Liv said none of my suits really fit proper, and I oughta get one tailored, just for nice events and stuff since I'm kinda broke, but I didn't know any shops in the area, so she said she knew one place run by a friend and she sent me here." He takes a breath. Barba wonders distractedly how the man hadn't turned blue at the lips.

"...Alright." Barba shakes himself. "What I've pieced together from your... exceedingly disjointed story is that you need a suit tailored."

Carisi bobs his head, seemingly unperturbed by what Carmen calls his "exemplary people skills", shifting from foot to foot. The mixture of light from the lamp on the counter, the overhead near the middle of the store, and the sunlight filtering in through the front windows along the stairs outside leading up to the street do strange things to the man's sharp jawline and gangly frame.

Barba checks his watch. It's not like he has any other appointments today- that's why he had given Carmen the day off- but he feels the need to deliberate for a moment, in front of the guy whose mustache makes him look like a bad, lanky caricature of Mario.

"Alright, I can take a walk-in now." He faux-supposes, standing and looking down at the garment bag in front of him, searching for the zipper. "Where did you buy this suit?"

"Uh." Carisi puts one hand on his hip. "The clearance rack at H&M?"

Barba stops for a second. He sighs.

"Liv owes me one." He mumbles, unzipping the bag, drawing out the suit. He pulls it off the counter and holds it up, eyeing it- a light grey number, not unlike the charcoal one Carisi's wearing now, except it's got a vest. The sleeves are a little too short, but enough so that he can adjust them with only minor changes, he thinks, mind racing.

"So." Carisi says. "Can ya do it?"

Barba exhales and looks at him.

"Yeah, I can do it." He replies, disgruntled, folding the suit over his arm. He grabs his glasses from the counter, pushes them up his nose, drops the "in a fitting, please ring the bell" sign to face the door, and beckons Carisi to follow him the back room.

~~~~~~

"Arms up." He pushes Carisi's underarms higher, and Carisi begrudgingly complies. He takes his measurements quickly, wrapping his measuring tape around the man's skinny biceps, running it from shoulder to fingertip and taking notes, pencil scratching against paper. He doesn't technically need to take a full set of measurements, but he likes to have them on file in case he has to make other alterations. 

The pants are half an inch too short. Luckily, the suit jacket is the right length, because as good as Barba is, even he can't re-stitch an entire suit. He'll only have to let out the hem a little. It's a good thing, because he has a feeling Carisi won't be paying him for his time. 

Barba sighs. Liv owes him a drink, at least.

"Hey, what are you sighing for?" Carisi asks, arms still up, looking down at him. From this close, Barba can see his eyes are a misty blue. From this close, he can also see that the mustache adorning his upper lip is a crime against humanity.

"Nothing." He murmurs. "Liv owes me."

"Oi, I'm not that much of a lost cause." Carisi says, offended, and Barba snorts.

"Really? Who told you that?" He snarks, motioning for Carisi to drop his arms so he can measure his shoulders. "They must have never seen your face. Or your facial hair."

Carisi unconsciously lifts a hand to stroke the aforementioned mustache. Barba smacks his arm- not the way he would usually treat a client, but then again, most clients pay him, and most clients aren't half as annoying- and he lets it fall to his side again.

"It's not that bad," Carisi protests weakly. Barba doesn't even reply, just fixes him with a look before going to scribble down shoulders, chest circumference, clavicle to pelvis. He drops to his knees and stretches his measuring tape along Carisi's leg.

"Jesus, your legs are long." Barba mutters. Carisi shifts his weight between his legs. Barba smacks him again on the knee, and he stops moving.

"My ma says that's a good thing." Carisi says offhandedly. Barba glances up, and Carisi's head is turned to the side, like he's embarrassed. He's probably never been to a tailor before. Barba almost laughs at being his "first".

He finishes taking measurements, looping the tape around Carisi's ankle and pulling so he knows how wide the hem should be, ideally. He marks a last number on his paper and stands up.

"Done now?" Carisi asks, watching him, and Barba stretches.

"Yeah." He says, grabbing Carisi's jacket off the nearby chair he had slung it over and handing it to him, leading him back to the front of the shop. "Tell Liv she owes me, and come back a week." 

~~~~~~

It doesn't even take two days before Carisi comes back

This time, Barba's busy working in the back, and Carmen's at her usual desk in the front. The bell jingles, but Barba doesn't hear, absorbed in the noise of his sewing machine.

"Uh." Carisi stops in front of the desk. "Hi."

Carmen smiles at him. "Hi, do you have an appointment?" She asks, all polite smiles.

"Ah, nah, I just needed to talk to Barba for a sec," he replies, grinning bashfully.

"Carmen? Is there someone-" Barba pokes his head out of the back room. 

Carmen turns around, glances between them. 

"Didn't know you had any friends outside the newspaper, Mr. Barba," she says, and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't start." He grumbles. "Besides, Carisi is from the paper."

"Photographer." Carisi says, sticks his hand out for Carmen to shake. "Dominick Carisi, call me Sonny."

"More to the point," Barba interrupts, "Carisi, why are you here? Your suit's not ready yet, it's only been two days-"

Carisi scratches the back of his head. Barba blinks.

"You got rid of the mustache," he says.

Carmen stares.

"Mustache." She says.

"It's a long story." Carisi mutters.

Barba snorts.

"Not really." He scoffs, leaning against the doorframe. "Just a crime against every pair of eyes forced to grace your upper lip."

Carisi makes a face at him. Carmen raises her eyebrows and turns her gaze back to Barba's bookings calendar.

"Anyways." Carisi says. "I wanted your opinion. I wanted to kinda, y'know, spruce the suit up a little, do you think this tie would work?" He pulls a truly horrendous tie out of his pocket and brandishes it in front of Barba. 

Carmen looks at the tie, and the blank look on Barba's face, and stifles a laugh.

"God, no." Barba gets out, stepping forward and taking the tie in his hands as though he can't believe something that hideous has wormed its way into his shop. It's a garish green, patterned, and Barba is seized, suddenly, with the urge to walk down the street and toss the offending garment into the Dumpster he knows is in the alley by the coffee shop on the next block. "Please never wear this. Ever."

Carisi throws his hands in the air.

"This is the coolest tie I own!" He exclaims.

"God help your wardrobe," Barba sighs. He turns around and beckons Carisi to follow him. He does.

"Stand here." He says, and turns to one of his wardrobes, hovering over his personal selection of ties. He hesitates between something purple and a paisley periwinkle number before going for the blue. It'll match Carisi's eyes.

Not that he's been paying attention.

"Barba?" Carisi's voice breaks him from his reverie, and he jolts, looks up.

He doesn't reply, only steps close to Carisi and holds the tie up to his neck, glancing between his face and the fabric and the pale skin of his throat.

"This will work." He murmurs. "But this is the last favor I'm doing you on Liv's behalf, Carisi, you hear?"

Carisi grins at him.

"Sure," he says easily, "I'll just hafta get you to do me favors on my own behalf then, Barba."

Barba rolls his eyes.

"I'll lend you the tie when you pick up the suit. Don't ruin it." He warns. "That tie cost more than your best jacket."

Carisi laughs.

"Seeing as you're holding my best jacket right now..." He trails off, still smiling. "I paid to get it tailored and everything, you know." Barba huffs and shoos him out, back to the front room.

"I'll see you in two weeks." He says.

"Yeah, yeah." Carisi waves to Barba and shakes Carmen's hand again- "Real nice to meet you, Carmen, see you next time,"- and sweeps the door shut on his way out.

The bell tinkles in the silence of the shop.

"Staten Island, huh?" Carmen remarks.

"Don't start." Barba sighs.

~~~~~~

Carisi comes back three days later.

"Jesus, Carisi." Barba says, exasperated. "It's been a total of five days since the original appointment. What do you want."

Carisi crosses his arms. Or, tries to, but remembers he's holding a cardboard 4-cup-holder of coffee from the bodega down the street. 

"I brought you coffee, okay?" He brushes him off, hands one cup to a grateful Carmen and holds the other out to Barba. "I was talking to my friend, and he's one of those high-class types, and he says I should buy cufflinks or a lapel pin or something-"

"Carisi." Barba interrupts. "Don't go overboard."

"It's my first show," Carisi bites his lip. "I really want it to go well."

Barba sighs. He'd die before admitting Carisi's earnest enthusiasm is a little endearing. 

"You don't need cufflinks, or anything, because I doubt you own a shirt to wear with them." He snarks, deadpan, but it's true. "A lapel pin might be fine, but I only match my pocket squares to my ties."

Carisi shifts his coffee between his hands before taking a long drink.

"I dunno." He exhales. "I'm..."

"Calm down, Carisi." Barba says. "Your photography's the star of the show, not your suit."

~~~~~~

Carmen knocks on the door to the back room of the tailor shop.

"Going home, boss?" She asks, poking her head in. Barba is leaned over his sewing machine, hands smoothing down the flats of the suit jacket he's sewing a seam for, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

He looks up.

"Ah, yeah." He says. "Go on ahead, Carmen, I'll close up shop."

He lifts off the pedal of the machine and pulls the foot securing the fabric to the machine up, tying off the thread.

"Alright. Don't stay too late." Carmen smiles and wraps her scarf around her neck. It's snowing in a flurry outside, and flickering blue and yellow streetlamps line the road. The sky is a classic New York City grey, compounded by the impermeable, damp monotone of the snowclouds.

"I never do." Barba says sardonically. It's so much of a lie that it's a joke. Carmen's walked into the office to see him asleep on the couch in the office, once or twice.

~~~~~~

At half past 10, Barba's phone rings. His cell phone, not his office. The caller ID says it's Benson.

"Liv," he says, in lieu of greeting. "Didn't know you specialized in charity cases, now."

"Carisi's not a charity case." Benson replies. "Besides, what did you say to him that got him to get rid of that awful mustache? You're already a good influence on him."

Barba scoffs.

"Sure." He says. "I'm a good influence on everyone. What do I get out of it?"

"Well, Carisi's been singing your praises." Benson suggests. "Barba this, Barba that, do you think Barba would like this tie..."

"What is it with Carisi and ties?" Barba mutters.

He can almost hear Benson's shrug.

"You still at the office?" He asks.

"Yeah." She sighs. "This article's due tomorrow."

Barba smiles.

"You're Editor-In-Chief of your section, don't you get people to write for you?"

"Yeah, well, it's good to do some ground work every once in a while." Benson laughs. "Besides, being the editor means I have to read over everyone else's stuff, too."

"Bet that's fun." Barba says, catty. 

"Hey, Rollins' writing is pretty good." She replies. "And Dodds is settling in alright."

Barba fiddles with the edge of a pocket square. Maroon with gold embroidery. "Doesn't hurt that his old man's the head of the paper."

Benson huffs into the phone.

"He's a good kid." She says. "A little brainwashed by his father, but well-intentioned."  
Barba nods, forgetting Benson can't see it.

"And Carisi?" He asks, intentionally casual.

"Is he growing on you yet?" There's humor in Benson's voice, and Barba scowls.

"Fat chance." He scoffs. "He's come to the shop three times in the past week, despite the fact that I haven't even touched his discount polyester suit yet."

Benson chuckles.

"Pulling out the Ivy-league oratory on a mere photographer from Fordham university." She whistles. "He must have made an impression."

"Yeah, as much of an impression as Rita made on you the first time you two met at my Christmas party." Barba fires back, remembering the intense verbal showdown he and several other guests had watched with expressions ranging from amusement to slight fear and panic.

Benson laughs into the phone.

"Well, Rita's invited to the staff holiday party at our office this year, too, along with you, even though you still claim she 'betrayed the establishment of fine clothing' by taking over management of that chain of department stores." Her voice is lilting and light-hearted.

"Surprise, surprise." He says dryly. "Is there a reason you called?"

"Carmen texted me and told me to make sure you got home instead of falling asleep at the office again." Benson says, smiling. "Go home, Barba."

"You know as well as I do that there's nothing for me at home besides some very fine alcohol, takeout, my personal sewing machine, and reruns of cop shows on the Tivo." Barba snarks. "But fin, Liv. As long as you do, too."

"I am getting my coat as we speak." Benson promises, and there's a shuffling sound from her end of the line. "Goodnight, Rafael."

The corner of Barba's mouth slants upwards.

"Goodnight, Liv." He says.

~~~~~~

Carisi, apparently, can't make it more than four days without coming back to Barba's shop. He bursts through the door again, shoulders and hair covered in snowflakes. 

"Carisi?" Carmen startles, surprised. "Are you here to talk to Mr. Barba again?"

"Yeah." Carisi pants. His nose is red, and he shivers, seemingly glad to escape from the blustery, snowy New York winter. "Is he free?"

"He's in a fitting right now, but it'll probably be done soon." Carmen offers. "You can sit on that couch, if you want."

Carisi smiles in thanks. He takes a seat.

Seven and a half minutes later, Barba emerges from his back room with an unfairly attractive guy, high cheekbones and strong shoulders, who shakes Barba's hand and thanks Carmen before pulling his charcoal peacoat around him and striding out of the door.

"If he calls again, tell him we're booked up." Barba sighs, exhausted. "I've never met a more nitpicky customer, and the migraines aren't worth it, no matter how much he pays-"

Carmen gestures wordlessly towards the end of the room, where Carisi's sat on the couch. He's looked up from browsing his phone when Barba came out, and springs to his feet now.

"Carisi." Barba groans. "What is it now? A cravat, perhaps, or a top hat?"

"Hey, only vampires wear cravats." Carisi counters, then pauses. "And lawyers."

Barba rolls his eyes.

"Anyways," he says, "I just wanted to ask if you guys have any recommendations for, like... places I could upgrade my wardrobe for kinda cheap?"

"You mean, better than the clearance rack at H&M?" Barba's voice is sardonic.

Carisi seems unaffected by the ribbing. 

"Yeah," he shrugs. "I mean, I call myself an artist, I gotta show I got some sense of style, right?"

Barba makes a noise, but asks Carmen to give Carisi the contact info of some of the more price-conscious retailers in the area that Barba trusts.

"And you can bring them here for custom fitting, in case it's tough to find any that accommodate your bizarrely long limbs." He finishes.

"Is that an invitation to come back, Barba?" Carisi grins. Barba rolls his eyes again. It seems to become even more of a habit around Carisi.

"I have a moral obligation to address perpetrators of crimes against fashion, don't I, Carisi." He says sarcastically. "With rehab."

"Barba-approved fashion rehab." Carisi laughs. "That's a new one."

~~~~~~

Out of curiosity, next time he's in front of his laptop, Barba opens Liv's section of the paper's website, clicking through the photos section. All the recent photos are credited to Carisi. He scrolls through them.

His first thought is that they're... nice.

Much better than he would have expected from a fashion disaster of a man who genuinely thought a lime green tie with a discount suit was a good idea for an art gallery, he thinks. Good composition, color balance- there's photos of stores and streets, festivals and events and parks, and Barba enjoys looking through Carisi's eyes for a few minutes.

He runs across a series of portraits of writers and staff at the paper. Liv, Rollins, Amaro, Dodds, and even some he wouldn't work directly with very often, like Rudnick, who Barba vaguely remembers having been fired for inaccurate and inflammatory investigative reporting, and Melinda, one of the most experienced information-diggers in the company.

There's a shot of Carisi himself. Barba wonders who took it. It doesn't look as professional as all the others, but he's smiling at the lens, eyes crinkled, hair slightly mussed. He still has the mustache, though, and Barba bites back a laugh.

The next moment, he snaps out of it. What is he doing? Looking up pictures of a client in his free time, no matter how personal a connection they might have to his friends?

Barba snaps his laptop lid shut.

~~~~~~

The next time Carisi comes in, there are two days left until the day Barba had originally told him to return. He's holding a box of pastry and coffees. Barba eyes them suspiciously.

"Is there poison in those?" He asks. "Laxatives, maybe?"

Carisi scoffs. 

"Why would I poison you." He says, handing one cup off to Carmen with a friendly smile and offering her the pastry box. Barba doesn't begrudge her that, because he knows she puts in just as many hours as he does. He doesn't know what he would do without her- Carmen organizes his clients and fittings, orders new materials, updates his jobs calendar, and even more that he doesn't know the exact specifics of.

He buys her a bouquet of flowers on employee appreciation day, gives her time off whenever she asks and he can afford, and makes sure her pay is good. It's the least he can do.

"I don't know, but I don't trust anyone who perpetually smiles." Barba glances at him. "It's unsettling."

"Hey, I had to work hard to smile like this." Carisi says, mock offended, but he's grinning again. Barba finds he's not as irritated as he used to be. He rolls his eyes.

"Trying to make me fat?" He grouses, accepting the coffee, poking around in the pastry box until he finds something he likes. Sweet, cream-and-sugar-filled Italian pastries. Somehow, he's not surprised.

Carisi chuckles.

"You only say that because you live off bodega coffee and pretzels." He fires back, taking a pastry for himself. "Anyways, I did have another reason for coming here, you know, but I figured I'd be more welcome with coffee and snacks."

Barba grumbles, mollified.

"So?" He asks. "What's your all-important reason for coming here that can't wait the two days until I'll be done with your suit?"

Carisi pulls something out of his pocket and brandishes it in the air.

"Invites!" He exclaims. "To my show. Since I can't pay you-"

"Figures." Barba mutters.

"-I should invite you guys to the show, at least." He finishes, handing one invitation to Carmen and holding the other out to Barba expectantly.

Barba looks at him disdainfully.

"Do I have to go?" He says.

Carisi laughs, unperturbed. Carmen looks at him, then at Carisi's outstretched offering. 

Barba grumbles and takes it.

"Fine." He says. "Might as well see what my work has resulted in."

Carisi whoops in delight. Carmen stifles a laugh.

~~~~~~

It's finally Carisi's fitting day.

"The one day I actually need to see him, and he's late." Barba mutters.

Carmen makes a noise of assertion, typing quickly, setting up some appointment or other that she'd asked him about ten minutes ago. Without Carmen, Barba would be out of work. Now, though, all he can think about is-

The bell above the door jingles familiarly, and Carisi tumbles in. His face looks frozen. It would be cute, except it's Carisi. Barba squashes that thought.

"The man of the hour finally arrives." He snipes. "Come on, I've been waiting for ten minutes already."

"You're the first man to make Rafael Barba wait." Carmen offers, smiling, and Barba wishes he could threaten her with a pay cut or something, but they both know that he wouldn't survive without her. He scowls.

Carisi smiles, but his face looks tight, and Barba's eyebrows furrow in slight confusion. Not that Carisi's feelings or personal matters are any of his business, and definitely not that the sight of his carefree smile has become bizarrely familiar over only two weeks, but he looks... off. Tense.

"Let's get this over with." Barba says.

Carisi follows him into the back room and, at Barba's direction, strips off his peacoat and today's cheap suit jacket- a muted steel blue, like the shade of a dolphin's fin or a stormcloud over the ocean. Barba brings Carisi's suit out from the rack where he keeps his finished jobs.

"I'll give you some privacy." He says, stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind him. Through all of this, Carisi hasn't said a word. 

Carmen glances at him.

"Say so when you're done." Barba calls through the door, leaning against it.

There's a minute of silence. The clock on Carmen's desk ticks softly.

"Done." Carisi's voice comes through the door, and it sounds slightly different. Strained. "You can come in."

Barba opens the door again and walks through. 

Carisi looks good. He hasn't even made that many alterations, but properly-fitting sleeves and pants lengths, plus the addition of Barba's tie, along with the slight nip and tuck job he'd done around the seams at the sides on a while, poring over Carisi's measurements, do wonders for his figure- Barba is of the firm belief that a well-tailored suit makes anyone look better, and Barba is nothing if not a good tailor.

"Mmm." He murmurs, walking around Carisi, who shifts awkwardly, eyes darting to the points and planes of the suit. "This'll work."

"Like what you see?" Carisi quips, but his voice is still tight, and the laugh seems like it's squeezed out of his throat.

"Something wrong, Carisi?" Barba asks, looking back up at his eyes. Fuck, he thinks, he was right, that tie makes his eyes pop like nobody's business. Carisi looks ready for a night out at a fancy restaurant.

Carisi blinks.

"You could tell?" He grins abashedly, smile wan. "Nah, I'm just a little off today, is all. A friend called me up to ask for a favor."

"Hmm. What kind of favor?" Barba asks, moving closer to straighten the lapel, realizing that Carisi doesn't know any tie knots besides the classic four-in-hand, which isn't bad, but a half Windsor would look better with this ensemble and Barba's wide tie. 

Carisi shrugs, almost dislodging Barba's hands.

"Had to go take some pictures of a dead body," he says, and Barba looks up at him, startled. Carisi laughs, a real one this time. "Bet you didn't expect that, huh?"

"Do I want to know?" Barba sighs.

"Eh, it's not that long a story." Carisi brushes it off, but a little bit of cheer is starting to return to the set of his shoulders. "I used to be in crime scene photography, forensics and stuff, but the job got pretty tiring. So I quit, and Liv offered me a job."

Barba cocks his head, considering.

"Hmm." He murmurs again. "Well, that would sour anyone's mood." He brushes down Carisi's lapel for the final time and steps back, crossing his arms. "Feeling alright for your show tomorrow?"

"Hell yes," Carisi grins, a real grin, and looks him directly in the eye. "A solo show's been my dream since I was eight."

"And how did you get to crime scene photography from there?" Barba asks drily.

Carisi shrugs.

"Just how the wind blows." He chuckles. "Photographers gotta find work somewhere. Coulda been a family portrait photographer, like at Sears or something, but the pay there sucks too."

Barba snorts.

"Well, here's to a successful first show, Sonny." He says, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk, directed straight at Carisi. Carisi flushes pink but returns an expression magnitudes happier than the one he had walked into the fitting room with.

"You two are taking an awfully long time in there," Carmen says, standing by the doorframe. "Mr. Barba, the District Attorney is here."

"Right." Barba shakes himself out of the reverie he seems to find himself in when he looks directly in Carisi's eyes. "Tell him I'll be right out. Carisi, you can take your suit with you, I have the bag here-"

"Actually, Barba," Carisi interrupts, scratching the back of his neck, "Uh, could I leave it here 'til tomorrow?"

Barba looks at him.

"It's just that I don't want to drop it in the street or have someone spill something on it on the bus or anything." Carisi hastens to explain, and Barba rolls his eyes.

"Fine." He says. "Now-"

"And, uh," Carisi continues, and Barba almost snaps at him, because there's a customer outside, but Carisi looks so earnest and hopeful that he can't do anything but hold his breath, "I was wondering if you wanted to walk over together?"

"What," Barba says.

"I mean, you and me and Carmen." Carisi hastily amends. "I figured I'd just change here, and go directly, 'cause my apartment's, like, three stops away-"

Barba shakes his head.

"Fine, fine." He makes a hurrying motion with his hands, and Carisi stumbles in his haste to get out of his pants, and Barba makes a beeline for the door. He's been a tailor for over twelve years, for God's sake. He doesn't need to be getting self-conscious at seeing a guy's bare legs.

~~~~~~

The next morning, if Barba picks a nicer suit than he would normally wear to work, he doesn't think too hard about why. He pinches the corner of his lavender pocket square, straightens the full Windsor against his neck, pulls at his cuffs before toeing on his shoes and stepping out the door.

He hasn't even walked down the block before his phone rings. He fishes it out of the pocket of his heavy wool coat, sees it's Liv calling, and picks up.

"Heard Carisi invited you to the gallery," she says without any ado. He snorts.

"Yes, your guy all but shoved the invitations into my hand." He scoffs. "Can't as well say no, can I."

"Yes you can, and you knew it." Liv smiles. "You've never had a problem turning down nuisances before, Barba... you're not getting soft on me, are you?"

"Over my dead body," he grumbles. "I just like to see my suits in action, even though this one came off the clearance rack at H&M. You owe me for that, by the way." 

Liv chuckles.

"I'll buy you a drink." She offers. "Anyways, Carisi says you guys are walking over together?"

"He's forcing his company upon Carmen and I, yes." Barba mutters, but sounds mollified at the prospect of alcohol. "I've already apologized to Carmen for my business taking up her Friday night."

"Are you kidding? Carmen's real into the amateur artist scene." Liv laughs. "She asked me to keep her updated on interesting galleries that pop up around the area. She's probably excited."

Barba purses his lips. He knows Carmen enjoys art in her spare time. Maybe he should have bought her tickets to a nice exhibit, or something.

"Barba?" Liv asks, and shakes him out of his trance. He stops at a street corner and waits with a group of pedestrians for the traffic to halt.

"Yeah." He says. "I'll be there. I've gotta go, Liv, unless I want to get hit by a bus."

"Alright." There's a smirk on Liv's face, he can hear it. "See you tonight, Rafael."

"Tonight." He echoes. "Bye, Liv."

~~~~~~

Carisi shows up on the dot, 6 pm. His hair is as neat as it can be for having been walking on the New York City streets.

"Hey." He greets Carmen. "Barba in?"

"Yes, he's finishing in the back. You can go knock on the door, if you want." She offers, glancing up and back, her typing never ceasing. "Thanks for the invitations, Carisi."

"Yeah, no problem." He grins. "Least I could do, you guys takin' on my case pro-bono and everything."

"Ever been to law school?" Carmen quips, smiling.

Carisi scoffs. 

"Yeah, maybe I'd be paid better if I were a lawyer instead of a photographer." He chuckles, and moves to rap on the door to the back room. "Hey, Barba? Can I come in?"

There's a crash, and a muffled shout. Carmen looks around.

"Are you okay, Mr. Barba?" She calls, and when Barba doesn't answer, gets up. 

"Barba? You alright?" Carisi says. He opens the door.

Barba's standing in the middle of the room, cursing to himself.

"Carisi. Good timing." He mutters, rubbing his head. "Can you get that box off the top of that wardrobe for me? I must have... dislodged something trying to get to it."

Carmen, seeing no harm has come to her boss, returns to her desk. Carisi snorts.

"Geez, you scared me." He sighs. "On the other hand, seeing you jumping to get a box a foot above your head? I'd pay to see that."

"Very funny." Barba says drily. "Paying for the job I did on your suit, on the other hand..."

Carisi grunts and pulls the box down. He drops it heavily on Barba's desk.

"Cripes, what's in here?" He exclaims. "Bricks?"

"No, not that..." Barba mumbles. "Just something I need for my next job." He pulls out a bottle of sequins, inspects them, puts it back and pulls out another one.

"What, a pole dancer need their outfit repaired?" Carisi jokes. Barba rolls his eyes.

"Sure." He pulls away and turns to the suit rack where Carisi's suit is hung. "Here, your suit. Final checks?"

Sonny strips off his jacket and pulls on the one Barba's tailored, and Barba leaves the room so he can change his pants. When Carisi opens the door again, he's pulling at his cuffs, adjusting his tie.

"How do I look?" He asks, glancing at Barba, then Carmen, then back again.

"If you were my type I'd buy you dinner," Carmen offers, and Carisi laughs.

"Thanks, Carmen." He smiles, then looks at Barba from out of the corner of his eye. "Do I have the Barba seal of approval?"

Barba purses his lips.

"Hold on." He says, stepping closer, closer- close enough to run his hands along Carisi's lapel. Carisi smells nice. He must have showered right before he got here, Barba thinks, because he smells like aftershave and New York City rain. The skin along his jawline is smooth and pale.

"Your collar is crooked." He murmurs, adjusting Carisi's collar. When he sees Carisi's adam's apple bob, sees him swallow, he jolts out of his reverie and steps back, flattening his hands along his stomach.

"Uh." Carisi stammers. "Thanks."

There's a pink tint high up on his cheeks, Barba thinks, and something in his chest starts to unfurl. 

"No problem." He says, and Carmen is intentionally looking a little too intensely at the screen of her laptop, chewing her lip, biting back a smile. "Sonny."

~~~~~~

The walk to the gallery is nice.

It's still cold, brisk, Barba wrapping his gray scarf tightly around his neck and mouth, pushing his hands in the pockets of his thick black coat- Carisi rubs his hands together, the coat he's wearing over his suit breaking the wind gusting by them. Carmen looks stunning in a dark dress, wine-red, and a long brown coat, but Barba feels a pang of sympathy for her exposed calves and tries to hurry along.

"So, Barba." Carisi starts. "What do you.... do?"

Barba looks at him.

"I'm a tailor, Carisi." He says. Carisi bites his lip.

"I mean... in your free time." He says, laughing, and Barba tries not to smile back. He's only partially successful. "What does the esteemed Rafael Barba do for fun?"

"Mm, for fun..." Barba trails off, glancing at him, then looking at the sidewalk in front of them. "Why do you want to know?"

There's something distinctly teasing about his tone, and Carisi starts to get the feeling he's onto something. It's like the feeling he'd gotten when he'd photographed key evidence from a murder scene, or a break-in scene. In this case, the crime scene is the tiny sparkle in Barba's green eyes.

"Dunno." Carisi keeps it casual, but he's grinning. "Seems like a natural progression. I invited you to my show and everything."

Barba scoffs.

"That's work." He says, breath visible in the freezing air. "I don't know what you do in your free time either, Carisi."

Carmen watches them with amusement. Her feet are getting cold. She's glad she's chosen to wear flats, because heels are too much of a hassle.

"Tit-for-tat?" Carisi smiles. "I go drinking with college friends, watch tv, answer midnight calls from Liv when she says she has a breaking article she needs some photos shot for."  
Barba laughs.

"Sure." He says. "Maybe, if tonight turns out to be worth my while, I'll return the favor."

He looks happy, though. For the first time in a while, he's not smirking while trading barbs with Rita, or wryly grinning while chatting with Liv. He's really, truly, smiling.

~~~~~~

The night goes well.

Carisi plays the part of the charming host surprisingly well. He laughs and drinks champagne and chats with a group of younger people Barba assumes are his college buddies, and jumps on any chance to wax about his photos.

"They're nice," Liv offers, and they are. Carisi favors landscapes and bright colors. Barba can see cityscapes and rolling hills, suburbs and beaches. Blown up on big posters and lit from above by those tiny spot lights, they're beautiful. 

"The ones he takes for the paper are just as good." Rollins says, smiling, and Carisi lights up at the compliment. 

Barba lets his sleeve brush against Carisi's. 

~~~~~~

The squad decides to get dinner after, and Liv and Carisi drag Barba along. Carmen politely declines and catches a cab back to her apartment from the street outside. 

When they slide into the group booth at the restaurant- dimly lit, a news show running on the television by the bar, Carisi slips around Amaro and settles between him and Barba. His leg presses against Barba's under the table, and they chatter and order food, laughing and living it up. 

Barba orders a scotch after they eat. Liv gets a glass of wine, Rollins, Carisi, Fin, and Amaro a beer each. 

"Where's Dodds?" Carisi asks.

"He had an anniversary dinner with his fiancee." Liv says, smiling. "Bad timing, but he says he'll come at the next show."

"The next show!" Amaro crows, slapping Carisi on the back. "He's got some faith in you, Carisi."

"We all do, Nick." Rollins laughs. 

~~~~~~

After a few round of drinks, Liv says she has to get back to relieve the sitter. Rollins cites the same, and Amaro offers to catch her a cab, ride home with her to save on the fare because her place is close to his. They pair off, waving goodnight, and Benson and Fin leave together too.

The only ones left are Barba and Carisi.

"So." Barba says, looking up at Carisi outside the restaurant. "Were you going to get a ride home?"

Carisi blinks down at him.

"Depends." He says. It's been an hour and he's only had one beer, but he half-wishes he'd had more, because he could use the liquid courage. "Am I reading the situation wrong, or have you been flirting with me?"

"Flirting? With the man who had a horrendous mustache the first time I met him?" Barba's smiling, and Carisi feels a bit emboldened. "It's like you're a detective."

"Detective Carisi." Carisi laughs. "That's a good one. How 'bout Judge Barba? Your Honor?"

"Funny." Barba smirks.

"I'm known for my sense of humor," Carisi says.

"I'm sure all your dates are swept away," Barba replies.

"Can I kiss you?" Carisi breathes.

Barba doesn't bother replying. He pulls Carisi down and into a surprisingly chaste kiss, lips cold and slightly dry- Carisi wraps his arms around Barba's shoulders, leans into him, and smiles against his mouth.

"Been thinking about doing this for a while?" Barba asks quietly, and he sounds... soft. Carisi feels his heart pound.

"Yeah," Carisi admits. "You have really nice suits."

Barba pulls away.

"Is that it?" He scoffs, mouth still twisted in a smirk, his hands still on Carisi's hips. 

"Baby, don't be like that." Carisi grins and leans back in, pressing their lips together again.

"Don't call me baby with that stupid accent." Barba mumbles. "It makes you sound like a two-bit gangster."

"You like it." Carisi murmurs. He's smiling.

~~~~~~

Carisi wakes up the next morning very, very warm.

"Mngh." He mumbles. There's hair in his mouth. He presses his cheek into it.

"Gh." Pressed against his front, Barba makes a noise in reply. "Carisi."

Carisi nuzzles his face into the back of Barba's head.

"Can you call me Sonny?" He asks. "I mean, yesterday you told me you liked my ass. I think you can call me Sonny."

Barba sighs.

"Sonny." He says.

Carisi grins.

"Was that so hard?" He tightens his arms around Barba's middle. "Rafael."

Barba lays one hand on top of the one around his stomach.

"You don't have work today?" He asks.

"Trying to get rid of me?" Carisi jokes, but there's an underlying current of uncertainty.

Barba scoffs.

"Please." He says. "My one-night stands don't know where I live. Liv will kill me if I keep you from getting some newsworthy photos, though."

"Mm." Carisi murmurs. "I have the day off. What about you?"

"Carmen texted me." Barba shifts. "Apparently she cancelled my appointments for today. I don't know what would have led her to that course of action."

Carisi laughs.

"You sure?" He says. "Mm... maybe we can go on a date today, then."

Barba turns around. His eyes are so, so green in this light.

"First date?" He smiles. "Maybe."

"First?" Carisi snorts. "You know how long it took me to psych up enough to ask you out the first time? I dunno if I can do it again."

Barba presses back closer to him. The shirt he's wearing is soft, worn cotton. 

"I hope you know, I don't put out on the first date." Barba murmurs. Carisi doesn't push it. He presses his lips to the tip of Barba's ear. He's wearing Barba's clothes, even though they're too short for him- a salmon sweatshirt and gray pants.

"Let's get lunch." Carisi smiles.

~~~~~~

Liv calls him, an hour later, when they're eating scrambled eggs for breakfast and watching television in Barba's living room. He picks up.

"Hey, Barba." Benson says. "Know why Carisi isn't picking up his phone?"

Carisi feels guiltily in his pockets for his phone, forgetting they're not his clothes. If he had tried to sleep in Barba's tailored clothes, he would've been kicked out of bed.

"Hey, boss." He says.

"Hey, Carisi." Liv replies, then pauses. "Barba, you move pretty fast."

"Bug off, Liv." Barba says cheerily.

Benson laughs. 

"I'll leave you two to your... whatever you're doing." She says. "See you at work tomorrow, Carisi, and I owe you that drink, Barba."

"Love you too." Barba deadpans, and Benson chuckles again before hanging up.

There's a moment of silence. The newscaster on the tv show chatters on about some celebrity.

"So." Carisi says. "We're out."

Barba shrugs.

"I'm my own boss," he says. "And it's not like Liv's going to fire you."

"Mm." Carisi smiles, wrapping an arm around Barba.

Barba glances around at him.

"Moving too fast?" He asks. Carisi shakes his head.

"Nah." He smiles. "I'm good."

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: they didnt do the nasty they just cuddled!!
> 
> hmu:  
> [tumblr](http://kimishitaatsushi.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/romanevikov)  
> [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/jjigens)


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